


The Start of Something New

by orphan_account



Category: High School Musical (Movies), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, High School Musical! AU, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A self-indulgent High School Musical AU. Because reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Start of Something New

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to my betas and true pals Leah, Ariel, and Sharon.
> 
> This takes place in England, rather than New Mexico, simply because I wanted Louis to call Harry “love”. Fair warning that I’m incredibly American, so it’s probably just going to sound like it takes place in a weird universe where American people sometimes use British slang. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or anyone associated with One Direction. 
> 
> I followed the original story line pretty closely, so I should also say that I'm not affiliated with the High School Musical franchise and that all rights go to Disney.
> 
> WHAT TEAM?!

Harry’s currently sprawled out on an absurdly comfortable couch in his family’s hotel room. It’s at least two times the size of him and he’s pretty sure it’s filled with either sunshine or happiness, but either way he’s not moving until someone physically drags him off it. He’s definitely decided he’s sleeping on the couch, because only an insane person would move from such a cozy place. He’s got his favorite sweatshirt on; it’s ratty and got a bunch of holes in it the size of his thumbs, but it’s the softest and most wonderful thing he owns. So he’s got the incredibly comfy outfit and the even more incredibly comfy couch, and he’s ready to settle in for a night of relaxation. His sister is expecting him to go to some teen party in the rec room, but he’s prepared to do absolutely nothing except write some new songs in his journal. If one or two or even five of those songs end up being odes to the hotel’s furniture, well, nobody can really blame him.

His plan is working out spectacularly until his sister, sneaky know-it-all that she is, plops down next to him on the couch and lets out an exasperated sigh.  Harry slowly glances over from his journal to see Gemma giving him one of her patented glares. It’s unfair, really, that her glares are actually, well, _glares_ , while Harry’s end up making people like his Great Aunt Marge pinch his cheeks and call him pumpkin. Point being, Gemma’s glares are a bit scary, and what’s even worse is that underneath her ire Harry can see that she’s genuinely disappointed that he doesn’t want to spend his New Year’s Eve sandwiched among complete strangers. Which makes absolutely no sense at all.

“H. You’re not spending the entire night _alone_ on a _couch_ when you could be hanging out with people your own age.”

Gemma’s the most meddlesome person in the history of ever, Harry’s sure of it. She’s constantly badgering him about his love life and attempting to set him up on blind dates with guys he swears she finds at the side of the road. Once, she texted him to meet her at a café and when he got there he found in her place a boy named Jeffrey, who was, to put it lightly, a complete dick. He ordered a small side salad for Harry and insinuated that he needed to lose some weight. Harry simply tossed his _sparkling water, no ice_ into Jeffrey’s lap and insinuated that he should go play in traffic.

Anyways, Harry’s had to put up with Gemma’s antics for years now and nothing good ever comes from them. Which is why he’s adamantly refusing to go to that party. It’s the very last night of holiday and Harry is going to enjoy it. He’s going to stay in the hotel room and he’s going to sit on his favorite couch in his favorite sweater and he’s going to write songs, and nothing Gemma does or says is going to convince him otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Alright, so Harry probably most definitely underestimated the will of his sister. It’s not even twenty minutes later and he’s crammed into a tiny room with a bunch of teenagers who are dancing and cheering along to a drunk blonde boy doing karaoke to some Miley Cyrus song on stage. Harry’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a jumper which is infinitely less comfortable than his holey sweatshirt which is now crumpled up on the floor of his hotel room. He at least managed to sneak his journal downstairs, which will soon be filled with detailed and descriptive ways of making Gemma’s life just as miserable as she’s made his. He can, like, dye her hair neon orange or shrink all her clothes in the wash. Something like that.

He’s found a couch in the rec room which is just complete and utter crap compared to the Sofa From Heaven that’s currently sitting in his hotel room, lonely and unused. This couch is lumpy and has some suspicious stains on it, and it’s all Gemma’s fault. All of it. He’s drawing a very accurate picture of Gemma getting run over by a bicycle when a light shines brightly in his eyes and he’s literally dragged up to the stage by the DJ and placed in front of a microphone.

Harry has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do. He knows, logically, that microphones are for singing and that there’s a karaoke screen in front of him so he’s probably supposed to do karaoke, but. Harry has never sung on stage a day in his life. Sure, he’s belted plenty of tunes into his showerhead and hairbrush, but he’s never done it in front of _people_. The DJ deposits another boy on stage who is, well, definitely the most attractive boy he’s ever laid eyes on, but Harry’s having a very difficult time focusing on anything other than the fact that he is supposed to sing in front of an audience.

He suddenly realizes that nobody is actually forcing him to do this, really, so he turns around to head off stage. Or, well, he tries to turn around but he ends up tripping over his microphone stand and crashing straight into the other karaoke victim. Which is just his luck.

“Oops.”

The boy caught him, thankfully, and they didn’t fall head-first off stage or anything, but this is still going down in history as the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him. The boy’s holding Harry steadily in his arms, which are very _very_ nice arms and his biceps are very tanned and defined and he’s wondering what other parts of this boy are tanned and defined and he really need to stop this train of thought. He finally manages to look up only to find the boy looking down at Harry and smiling this cute half-smile that shows a hint of pointy teeth and his blue eyes are sparkling and his hair looks so soft and smooth and _fuck_ , Harry’s a bit gone.

“Hi.”

Harry’s knocked back to reality at the sound of the boy’s voice, and he realizes he’s been staring for quite a while. He tries to respond but what comes out of his mouth is just complete gibberish and he knows his cheeks are completely red with embarrassment because of course he’d turn into an incomprehensible idiot the moment he meets a cute boy. He ducks his head and tries to make himself smaller, hopefully small enough that the boy will forget this entire thing ever happened. Only all that does is make his head come into contact with the boy’s chest, his very sturdy and muscular and warm chest, and Harry is so close he can smell his cologne and it’s smells like heaven so now he’s wondering if he’s maybe dreamed this boy up.

“Are you smelling me, love?”

Oh god. Harry is actually going to die of embarrassment. It doesn’t seem to faze the other boy, though, because he just laughs, helps Harry stand up properly, picks the microphone stand up off the ground and hands it to him. Harry gingerly takes it from him and tries to smile thankfully but he’s absolutely positive he looks like a deranged psycho. The music starts up and the other boy looks at him a bit unsurely before starting his verse, and oh dear lord his voice is literally the sweetest thing Harry’s ever heard. He’s going to start singing his line and he will definitely sound like hundreds of wet, drowning cats and he really just wants the ground beneath his feet to swallow him up before this can happen.

The boy keeps clearing his throat and looking nervously back and forth between Harry and the karaoke screen, and Harry _can’t_ get the words out to sing because the moment he does the boy will probably cringe and run away in horror, or even worse, smile politely and act like Harry’s voice isn’t like nails on a chalkboard to him. The boy seems to understand that Harry won’t be singing anytime soon, though, so he finishes his verse and then turns to leave the stage and, _fuck_ , Harry can’t let him leave. This boy is quite possibly his soul mate because he didn’t leave after he caught Harry literally smelling him. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, tries to imagine he’s alone in his bedroom where nobody else can hear him, and starts to sing.

He hears the sharp intake of breath from the other boy before he joins in and before he knows it they’re harmonizing, throwing in random changes to the song here and there. Harry thinks their voices blend together pretty well, but it might just be a figment of his imagination. They keep sneaking glances at each other and the other boy takes off his jacket and, god, he throws it out at the audience like some kind of certified pop star. He starts dancing and holding his arms out and singing to Harry and during his solo, he literally tilts the microphone stand over and starts grinding on it without breaking eye contact. Harry is royally screwed.

The audience is really getting into the song, all of them clapping along and jumping up and down and holding their arms up to the stage like it’s a real concert and Harry and this incredibly attractive stranger are in a real band. The other boy starts walking towards Harry as they’re singing the chorus, and Harry backs up out of sheer terror of being so close to someone who has quite possibly become the love of his life in no less than two minutes. Only he backs up a bit too much and nearly falls off stage, but luckily the people nearby catch him and push him back up.

Their song is nearing the final verse and Harry’s just started getting a little more comfortable with the whole singing in front of an audience thing. He’s absolutely positive that he wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for the blinding smile and the sparkling blue eyes of the boy next to him, but still. Everyone claps and screams when their song is done, and the boy turns over to Harry and smiles at him for a few moments, out of breath from the performance. He holds his hand out, introduces himself by simply saying, “Louis.” Harry grabs his hand and every single cheesy line from every single romantic movie he’s ever seen comes roaring into his head on surround sound, and he swears he feels sparks the moment their hands touch.

“Harry.”

 

 

* * *

 

Harry’s not entirely sure if this is real life or just some elaborate dream, but a few minutes later he finds himself out on the balcony of the rec room with Louis. Once they hopped off stage, Louis immediately reached for Harry’s hand and dragged him over to the beverage bar for a cup of hot chocolate. After filling his cup to the brim with marshmallows, Louis led him outside to the balcony.

“Seriously, Harry, you’ve got an amazing voice! I can’t believe that’s the first time you’ve sung on stage!”

Harry blushes at the compliment before replying, “Thanks, Louis. I just, I get really nervous when I have to do things in front of large crowds. The only reason I was even able to sing tonight was because you were distracting me.”

Louis smirks a bit at that. “I was distracting you?”

Harry quickly changes the subject, and before he knows it they’ve been talking for hours. It’s just started to snow outside, but Harry barely notices. The only reason he realizes it’s even snowing is because he is completely mesmerized by the way the snowflakes land on Louis’ face. Some of them get stuck in his eyelashes for a moment before melting away; some of them land on his cute little nose. Louis’ currently chasing them with his tongue, straining his neck to catch a few. Harry thinks he could watch Louis do this forever, watch Louis do anything forever, really. He’s more content than he’s ever been, and that’s saying a lot considering earlier tonight he was curled up on an absurdly comfortable couch and now he’s outside in the cold and the snow with bad karaoke songs blaring in the background.

The karaoke fades away, though, and he hears excited screaming as people start counting down to the new year. He looks unsurely down at Louis who has just licked a snowflake off his upper lip and is smiling brightly up at him, and he is hit with how incredibly gorgeous this boy standing in front of him is. He wants to talk to him all night long, wants to learn absolutely everything there is to know about him, but most of all he really, really, wants to kiss him at midnight.

Harry’s never been the bravest boy, though, so he breaks eye contact and looks outside at the gently falling snow, looks at the stars in the sky, looks everywhere that _isn’t_ Louis and holds his breath while he hears the screams and shouts in the background welcoming the new year. Fireworks explode overhead and Harry risks a glance back at Louis only to find the boy already looking at him. Louis’ eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, and he swears he feels him lean in a little bit and Harry just _can’t_.

“Erm… I, uh, I think I should go find my sister and mum and wish them a Happy New Year.”

Louis nods frantically and takes a step back, “Yeah, me too. My friend Niall is probably looking for me. He was actually on stage earlier singing Wrecking Ball, did you see him?”

Harry vaguely recalls a blonde boy bouncing around stage on a beach ball, wearing a bright yellow shirt with some crude stick figures that said START THE YEAR OFF WITH A BANG. Harry smiles a bit at the memory, but it’s quickly replaced by a frown as he realizes those are the type of people Louis likes to hang out with: happy, energetic, easy-going people who would rather get drunk and go to parties and be social than sit at home in raggedy clothes writing down the words that they’re too afraid to say out loud.

Louis interrupts his train of thoughts. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah? Maybe we can hang out again. I had a really nice time.” Harry nods in agreement before handing over his phone. He saves himself as ‘Harry’ before realizing that’s not memorable in any way, so he adds a microphone and a prawn emoji afterwards in the hopes that his name will stand out in Louis’ address book. He gets his phone back with ‘LOUIS!!!!!!!!’ followed by a bunch of hearts in varying colors as a new contact, nestled in-between ‘Lou Teasdale’ and ‘Mum’.

 

* * *

 

It’s only when he gets back to his room that he realizes he’s leaving bright and early tomorrow morning, and so he won’t have time to hang out with Louis at all. He almost opens up his phone to send a text to Louis to tell him such, but he quickly loses the courage and hides the phone under his discarded sweater. He’s all curled up again on the most comfortable couch in existence, but he can’t really enjoy any of it because no matter how soft and cozy the couch is, he’s pretty sure the feeling of laying on it will never beat the feeling of being with Louis.

Gemma comes into the room a few moments later and lays down next to Harry.

“How was your night, then, H?”

Gemma may be the most bothersome person in his life but she’s also his very best friend. He snuggles closer to her and lets his racing heart settle. He’s been off-kilter all evening, constantly feeling like he’s in over his head, but Gemma is familiar and she feels like home. As much as he doesn’t want her lording this over him (because he knows once he tells her he met someone at the party she will immediately say, “I told you so.”), he needs to talk to someone about it because he feels like he’s going to burst at the seams. So he starts talking.

“I, um, I think I’ve met someone.”

Gemma immediately gets a smug look on her face and she starts to speak but Harry clamps a hand over her mouth, stopping her.

“Don’t say it, Gems. Just, this whole night was perfect and I can’t really believe it happened and I’m not even sure what to do with myself. I don’t even know where he lives, let alone his last name, and I don’t want to think about the logistics like that because then I’ll be sad and I really just want to be happy right now.”

“Alright, H. I will keep all my comments to myself. Tell me about this bloke.”

So he does. He tells her about how he fell into Louis’ arms and not-so-subtly checked him out before not-so-subtly smelling him. He tells her about how _bright_ Louis was, about how his smile and his eyes lit up the entire room. He tells her about how just being with Louis gave him the courage to sing in front of a hundred people. He tells her about Louis’ endearing antics on stage, about how Louis offered to pay for his hot chocolate, about countless other things that all blur together in an endless stream of _LouisLouisLouis_.

“I’m pretty sure he’s my soul mate, Gems. Is that weird? Like, I don’t even know where he lives. Fuck. He could live in, like, Newcastle for all I know! And we’re moving to Manchester next week and I just. I don’t know what to do.”

Gemma hugs him a little closer to his chest and runs her hand through his curls in the way she knows calms him down.

“I don’t think it’s weird that you think he’s your soul mate. Love doesn’t make much sense, Harry. I know it sucks that you’re so unsure about things, but don’t forget that you did get his number. You can text him and call him and still talk to him, no matter where he lives. Just, if things get serious, you need to introduce him to me so I can give him the stern older sister ‘don’t you dare hurt my baby brother’ talk, alright? I’ve been waiting to give that speech for ages. Rehearsed it ever since you hit puberty and turned into a sort of semi-attractive man-child.”

“You’ve rehearsed a speech to give to all my potential boyfriends? Why am I not surprised?” He pauses before asking, “Erm, can I, like, can I hear a bit of it?”

Gemma laughs a little bit before sitting up and standing in front of the couch.

“I’ve got to be standing for you to get the full effect. First, here is my stern sister stance.” She puts her hands on her hips and puts her patented glare on. “See? I’m very stern.”

Harry stifles a laugh behind his hands. He’s pretty sure he’s got the best sister in the world, regardless of the fact that she’s overprotective and meddlesome and entirely too invested in his love life. Just a few hours ago he wanted to strangle her for interrupting his plans of doing nothing, but now he wants to hug her. Their entire relationship is a roller coaster, fighting one minute and having heart-felt conversations the next. He honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright. Here goes. Listen up, you little turd. I understand that you’ve got _feelings_ for my brother. I’m here to tell you that you better treat him right, no, you better treat him _better_ than right. You better worship the ground he walks on and feed him chocolate covered strawberries and give him back massages because he’s got terrible posture and you just really need to take care of him, okay? If you don’t, you’ve got me to answer to. If I find out you’ve hurt my brother in any way, I will hunt you down.” She clears her throat before going to stand on top of the coffee table. “I have a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you apologize to my brother now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

“Gems, now you’re just straight up stealing lines from Taken.”

“Sod off, Harry. You don’t know anything.”

They spend the rest of the night watching Liam Neeson movies on Pay-Per-View, pausing at all the right moments to do re-enactments of important scenes. It’s one of the best nights he’s had in his entire life, first with meeting Louis and then with spending time with his sister. He still can’t believe he had the courage to get up on stage earlier, but he’s hoping that maybe he’ll find other ways to be courageous. He realizes that it’s the new year, and that the new year is about becoming a new person, a better person. He says goodnight to Gemma, gets off the couch, and digs his phone out from under his jumper.

He figures he’s already conquered one of his fears tonight; might as well conquer another.

           **Hey, Louis. It’s Harry. Happy New Year xx**

Harry gets ready for bed, snuggles himself into a cocoon of blankets and comforters, and checks his phone, letting out a very manly squeal when he sees that Louis has responded, before falling asleep with a gigantic smile on his face.

           **HAPPY NEW YEAR CURLY!!!!!! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

 

Harry’s stomach is filled with butterflies as he walks towards the main office of his new school. It’s not that he hasn’t been to seemingly hundreds of different schools in seemingly hundreds of different states due to his mom’s job, but this is high school and, well, he’s incredibly nervous. He knows that everyone’s already formed their own cliques by now, and he’s pretty sure none of them will accept the awkward dorky kid transferring in the middle of the school year. His mom’s promised him that they won’t move again until he graduates high school, but he’s not entirely sure she can keep that promise, so he’s not really sure he should go out of his way to make friends with people when he’ll leave in a few months anyways.

He arrives at the main office of East High and introduces himself to the secretary. She hands him his schedule before introducing him to the principal, who greets him briefly before leading him back out into the hallway. The principal is rambling on about Harry’s transcripts and how they’re looking forward to seeing all that he can do, pleasantries that Harry’s heard a hundred times over.

Harry was on the phone with Gemma late last night confessing all his worries over starting at this school. In his past schools, he was always on the Scholastic Decathlon and the Chess Club and in Mathletes, and, well, people automatically labeled him as a freaky genius. Gemma reassured him that he’ll always be her freaky little brother, and that if people aren’t going to accept that, she would drive down to his school and beat them all up. On a more serious note, she told him to just be himself. Only, he’s pretty sure “himself” is just an incredibly boring teenager who does nothing on the weekends except write in his journal and play Scrabble with his mum.

Harry follows the principal up a set of stairs and notices that there’s quite a lot of red. Like, red banners and posters and lockers. He even saw a giant poster of what he assumes is the East High football team hanging in one of the hallways, which is just really strange. They come to a stop outside a door and the principal wishes him luck before leaving. Harry walks in to see what is quite possibly the most eccentric classroom he’s ever been in, and that’s saying something because he’s been in quite a lot of classrooms. There’s a stage up front where the teacher’s desk should be, and there’s a plump old lady sitting in an armchair in the middle of the stage drinking tea and scowling at students. Above her head is a pair of drama masks hung up on top of a curtain.

Harry keeps his head down and hands his transfer papers to the teacher, before squeezing past a few students and making his way to a desk in the back of the room. The bell rings and the teacher starts speaking in a high and pompous tone.

First she welcomes them back from winter holidays, although Harry's not convinced that she's entirely sincere about it. She then starts talking about the winter musical, only she pronounces musical like she’s from medieval times or something. Harry kind of zones out her announcements and various chastisements, because he’s fairly certain that this is going to be the absolute most boring fifteen minutes he will ever have to endure, ever. It’s _homeroom_ for crying out loud.

His phone starts ringing in his bag and he reaches frantically inside, taking it out and opening it to see none other than Louis calling, which is strange. They’ve been texting practically non-stop since meeting at the New Year’s Eve party, but they’ve never called each other.

Harry is pulled out of his inner ramblings when the teacher lets out a long, drawn out sigh before citing the various evils of cell phones and their interference in the hallowed halls of learning, and then proceeds to take everyone’s cell phones, including Harry’s, and assigns them all to detention. This is quite possibly the worst first day of school out of all of Harry’s first days of school.

The teacher goes to take some boy’s phone at the front of the classroom until said boy turns around and realizes it’s not just some random student, it’s Louis. Which, _what_? They’d never talked about where they lived, never going into specifics about their lives. Louis told him he played football for his high school team, but that was about it. Mostly they talked about music and movies and skirted around the fact that they knew nothing about each other’s personal lives beyond their first names.

Behind Louis sits a blonde boy who Harry vaguely recognizes as Niall, Louis’ friend from the party, who speaks up in Louis’ defense, “No, no, no, no,” Niall waves his hands frantically in the air, “That’s not even in the realm of  _possibility_ , Ms. Darbus, see, ‘cause we have footy practice after school!”

Apparently Ms. Darbus could give a rat’s ass about football practice, because she gives Niall detention as well without a second’s hesitation. Her next victim is a boy named Zayn Malik who was laughing and insulting Niall after he got detention. Harry’s never seen so many people get detention is such a short period of time.

Ms. Darbus rants a bit longer about detention and cell phones before asking if the class has any more questions for her, although Harry’s pretty sure she doesn’t really care. A few moments later the bell signifying the end of homeroom rings, so Harry gathers up his stuff and hurries to leave the classroom, thankful to be out of the crazy old lady’s presence.

Before he has the chance to walk to his next class, he’s intercepted in the hallway by Louis. There’s a small moment of awkwardness where they just kind of stare at each other in awe, and Louis’ the first to snap out of it.

“I don’t believe it! How are you here? You haven’t always been here, right? I definitely would have noticed you if you had been in my school before!”

Harry laughs and smiles down at Louis before replying, “My mum’s company transfers her around a lot, and, well, Manchester is the next stop. She promised we don’t have to move again until I graduate, but. You never know.”

“This is so crazy, Haz! I can’t believe it.”

“I know! Listen, I know we’ve been texting and talking all the time, but I don’t think I ever got the chance to thank you for that night. I had such a fun time, singing with you-“

Louis interrupts him before whispering, “Shh! Can we, ah, can we just not mention the whole singing thing?”

Harry looks at him quizzically before Louis explains, “Erm, well, my friends know about the whole snowboarding at the hotel in Plymouth thing, but they don’t really know about the whole _singing_ at the hotel in Plymouth thing? I just, I haven’t told them yet, because it’s not really their style?”

Harry really wants to pay attention to Louis’ ramblings, but he’s also determined not to be late on his first day. No matter how much he wants to rid himself of the freaky genius title, he can’t help but want to get to class on time. He has only a vague idea of where his next class is, so he’s looking at a map while trying to listen to Louis. He takes a sudden left when he sees the hallway he’s supposed to go down, not even paying attention to see if Louis will follow. Which he will probably smack himself for later, but right now he’s in the school zone and it’s very difficult to get him out of it.

Louis catches up to him, and now they seem to be in one of the main hallways, which is (not surprisingly) decorated with red bulletin boards and littered with trophy cases that are all completely filled up.

“So, welcome to East High.” They pass a bulletin that has signups for the school musical, which Louis makes sure to point out. Harry assuredly tells him that he won’t be signing up for any extracurricular activities. He’s not joining any clubs. Not the Scholastic Decathlon, not the Chess Club, and certainly not the Mathletes, let alone the school musical.

“Nah, I just kind of want to get a feel for the school first, y’know? But, erm, if you signed up for it I would definitely come to the show!”

Louis blushes a bit before replying, “Absolutely not. That’s pretty much impossible.”

Harry’s about to respond before they’re interrupted by a giant beanstalk of a man. Harry realizes that he’s not in any position to call anybody a beanstalk, but he’s been caught off guard and, more importantly, his conversation with Louis has been interrupted. The guy leans against the bulletin board and Harry’s pretty sure he’s trying to be seductive, which is so not totally cool because Louis is _his_ soul mate, thank you very much.

“What’s impossible, Louis?”

Louis remains silent, so the guy takes that moment to show that he is, in fact, a colossal douchebag. He writes his name in big, gigantic letters across the entire signup sheet. He even dots the ‘i’ in his name with a star. Harry has most definitely never met a bigger twat in all his life.

The guy, who is apparently named Nick, turns around and tries to look innocent but Harry thinks he really looks like a demon sent from hell to make his life miserable. He says in that obnoxious voice of his, “Oh, did you want to sign up for the show? My sister and I have co-starred in _all_ the school’s productions!” Harry would like to touch on how creepy that is, but Nick won’t let him get a word in edgewise. “We really welcome newcomers! There’s lots of room for, like, prop makers and backup singers, or other supporting roles like that!”

That is _it_. Harry can’t even be in the same space as Nick Grimshaw without wanting to punch him in his dumb looking nose. So, he smiles up at Nick, who is now the bane of his existence, and walks away, but not before telling him he’s got very girly penmanship. Harry has never been more ashamed of a comeback in his life, but his mind was occupied with thinking of creative ways to kill Nick, so he can’t really be blamed for insulting the man’s _penmanship_ , of all things. Still, he needs to get his head in the game.

 

* * *

 

He’s working on a chemistry problem later that day when none other than Nick pokes his gigantic head over Harry and Zayn’s table.

“So, it looks like you know Louis Tomlinson.”

“Not really. We just met on holiday, is all.” He hopes that puts an end to Nick’s line of questioning.

“Well, Louis doesn’t usually hang out with anyone outside his football team. He tends to stick to the status quo, y’know?”

Harry honestly could care less about anything Nick has to say, and he’s really trying to focus on solving this chemistry problem. But Nick is, not surprisingly, completely incapable of taking a hint.

“He’s pretty much dedicated to football 24/7. No time for dating.”

Harry just zones Nick out after he starts babbling about how if Louis _did_ have time for dating, then they’d definitely be official. He notices the teacher’s solution is wrong on the board, and he quickly points it out before remembering he was going to try to blend in more at this school. It’s too late now, though, so he repeats himself when prompted by the teacher and can’t help the little smile that overtakes his face when she praises him for his good catch.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s in detention and in the middle of painting some obscure prop when Zayn rushes over, waves a paper in front of his face, and says delightedly, “The answer is yes!”

“Erm…I wasn’t aware I asked anything?”

Zayn then goes on to explain the various merits of their Scholastic Decathlon team before reminding Harry that they have their very first competition next week. He shows Harry the papers in his hand, which end up being photocopies of newspaper articles showcasing Harry’s many academic achievements, and says that someone put them in his locker earlier that day. Harry’s absolutely positive that Nick was the one who did that, because who else would want to embarrass him like this?

“We’d absolutely love to have you on our team, Harry. We’re not that strong right now, but with a little coaching from a seasoned decathlon veteran like yourself, I’m sure we could soar through the ranks and finally beat West High!”

Harry politely declines, making up an excuse about needing to catch up on schoolwork. He looks around the stage and sees Louis, sitting at the top of a cardboard tree, cutely kicking his feet back and forth as he staples paper leaves to the tree. Louis’ quickly distracted, though, when he spots Niall sleeping at the bottom of the tree trunk. Ms. Darbus is lecturing them all about the various evils of cell phone use, but Harry just tunes her out and watches Louis instead. He’s currently dangling one of the leaves into the trunk and tickling Niall’s nose. Niall can apparently sleep through anything, but his hand still occasionally comes up to swat the paper leaf away.

Ms. Darbus is interrupted by a man, who Harry assumes is the football coach judging by his appearance, storming into the auditorium.

“Just what exactly do you think you're doing, Darbus? Louis, Niall, go get dressed, now. I want you both out on the field in five minutes.”

Louis gives Harry a sheepish shrug before waking Niall up and leading him out of the auditorium.

 

* * *

 

Zayn is still trying to convince Harry to join the Decathlon, but Harry declines again, claiming that he wants to focus on his studies and help his mum get the house organized. He then changes topics, asking Zayn if he knows anything about Louis. Mostly, Harry wants to find out if anything’s going on between Louis and Nick. He’d like to think that Louis’ got better taste than that, but still. He needs to know.

Zayn smiles and then tells Harry that Louis doesn’t really travel in the same circles at Zayn, but that everyone loves and adores him. Harry asks Zayn if he’s ever tried to get to know Louis, and Zayn just kind of shrugs and tells Harry to wait until they’re at lunch tomorrow to see how getting to know Louis Tomlinson is a bit of an impossible task. Harry’s somewhat confused by this, but he lets the topic go nonetheless.

Harry heads home and immediately calls Gemma, filling her in on the Louis situation. She’s absolutely thrilled, goes on and on about fate and how they’re star crossed lovers and how she can’t wait to meet Louis. Harry is quick to fill her in on the fact that Louis seems to be the most popular boy in school, and probably wants nothing more from Harry than friendship. Gemma calls him a dingbat. Harry would mock her for that insult, but he did say _nice penmanship_ to Nick a few hours earlier so it would be very hypocritical of him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Harry walks into homeroom to see Nick handing Ms. Darbus a scented candle. Harry thought he couldn’t possibly hate Nick more, but he was wrong. Not only is Nick a monumental prick, he is also a suck-up. Plus, he’s got pink skinny jeans on, and he can’t pull off pink _or_ skinny jeans. The bell rings and Harry glances up from his desk to see Louis at the front of the classroom. Louis smiles and nods at him, and Harry resists the urge to smirk triumphantly in Nick’s direction. Ms. Darbus starts in on her morning announcements, which have gotten no more interesting, and Louis takes his seat at his desk. He keeps turning around and sending adorable smiles Harry’s way, tugging on his ear a bit, and Harry finds it hopelessly endearing. He can’t stop giggling and laughing and he tries to hold it back but he doesn’t really stand a chance. He’s not sure he ever stood a chance when it came to Louis Tomlinson.

After homeroom, Louis walks him to class and tells him that he will probably have an extra football practice during free period, but that he’d much rather hang out with Harry. Still, he's the team captain and they've got championships coming up so Louis leaves, telling him he'd just see him after free period. Harry later finds himself heading to the auditorium alone during free period for the musical tryouts. Not because he wants to tryout, because no, but because he’s sort of curious. Plus, there’s the slim chance that Nick will make a complete arse out of himself and Harry definitely wants to be present for that.

When he arrives at the auditorium he sees Louis hiding behind a mop. He’s soul mates with a crazy person, it seems. He sneaks up behind Louis before jumping into his line of sight. Louis jumps a foot in the air and knocks the mop over, catching it at the last second before it crashes to the ground.

“Lou! Are you here to audition?”

“No, no, definitely not. You?”

“Nope. Why are you hiding behind a mop?” Louis shrugs and looks a bit sheepish, so Harry guesses that Louis is trying to make sure none of his friends see him. They watch a few auditions, most of them ending in tears when Ms. Darbus insults them and tells them to never tarnish the name of theater again. Louis looks a bit spooked.

“Are you scared of Ms. Darbus, Lou?”

“What? No! I’m not scared. Just, she’s a bit harsh, yeah? And you of all people know how scary it is to even be up on stage in the first place, so I just, I don’t know. I just think she should be a little nicer with her constructive criticism. Not that her criticism is even constructive in the first place, but.”

Harry’s about to offer some words of comfort but he’s interrupted by Nick coming on stage with his sister. It seems that ‘twat’ runs in those genes. Nick’s dressed in green trousers and has a neon green hat on and Harry has never despised a person more in his life. His sister is wearing nothing but pink, and she’s got a bedazzled microphone, _honestly_. They’re both obnoxiously good at singing, but they’ve got a dumbass dance routine that makes Harry want to vomit. Ms. Darbus apparently likes it, though, because she’s dancing around in her seat and clapping along to the song. Harry thinks someone should definitely tell Nick and his sister that it’s a tad creepy to be singing a love song to each other, but then again he doesn’t really care all that much.

Nick and his sister finish up their song and then go and terrorize the piano player. Harry really feels for the girl, because he plays piano and he knows how hard it can be, and he also knows was a dick Nick is, so. Ms. Darbus calls for last-minute signups and nobody comes forth so she turns off the lights. Somehow Harry finds himself springing out of his seat saying he’d like to audition. Ms. Darbus of course lectures him on being prompt, saying that single auditions are over and there are no other pairs. For some reason, Harry is actually torn up about the fact that he lost his chance, and he’s just about to turn around and book it out of the auditorium in embarrassment when he hears Louis stand up from his seat at the back.

“I’ll sing with him.”

Harry glances back to see Louis sheepishly raising his arm in the air. Harry can’t really believe it, that Louis would be willing to do something that he’s obviously not comfortable with just because Harry had a brief moment of insanity, but he’s certainly not complaining. Only, Ms. Darbus starts ranting about the hallowed halls of the theater and how seriously they take the school musical at East High, and so she not-so-regretfully informs them that they can’t audition.

Louis sighs before telling Ms. Darbus, “Harry has an amazing voice, though. You should give him a chance.” Harry blushes at the compliment, feels himself warm in the cheeks.

Ms. Darbus just rolls her eyes and walks away, saying over her shoulder, “Perhaps the next musical,” and that’s it. Harry is inexplicably heart broken, can barely bring himself to look at Louis because he feels like such a failure. He’s about to make up some excuse to leave when he hears a loud crash on stage, and when he turns around he sees the piano player has accidentally spilled all her sheet music on the floor. Louis immediately springs into action, jumping up on stage and gathering up the papers for her, gently praising her for all the work she does for the musical, and Harry just. _This_ is the Louis that he met on holiday, the Louis that bought him hot chocolate and listened to him whine about his sister for hours, the Louis that texted him back even after their total flop of an almost-first-kiss. He’s kind and considerate and unbelievably caring, and Harry really wishes everyone in the school could see this side of Louis. Maybe if they did they wouldn’t care so much about the fact that he plays football but also enjoys singing now and again.

Louis tells the piano player that he’s looking forward to the show, that her music will definitely trump whatever auto-tuned crap Nick and his sister decide to sing to, and then suddenly they’re gathered in front of the piano as she plays the opening chords to the audition song. Louis smiles at Harry before singing the first verse, and Harry quickly joins in, and it just feels so _right_. The lyrics sound like they were written for Louis and Harry, and it’s almost like they’re making their own movie soundtrack. Louis’ smiling up at him but it’s not one of his patented bright and blinding smiles. It’s small, like a secret, but just as amazing, and Harry’s heart feels like it’s going to burst at the seams.

They wrap up the song and Harry’s thinks his face is going to break in two with how wide he’s smiling. He hears a door slam somewhere in the auditorium, but he’s pretty sure the entire high school could be up in flames and he’d hardly care. That is until he hears Ms. Darbus shout from the back of the auditorium, “Tomlinson, Styles, you two have a callback. Leah, give them the duet from the second act. Work on it with them.”

Leah nearly falls off the piano bench in her haste to stand up. She then starts spouting off meeting times and handing them each sheet music to practice on and Harry’s in shock, a bit. He looks over at Louis and finds that he’s just as floored, only he’s not the happy sort of confused that Harry is. Louis quickly excuses himself, saying he’ll call Harry later that night, and then Harry’s left alone. He can’t really focus on all that right now, though, because he’s got a _callback_ and he’s going to be auditioning for some part in a musical and god, he doesn’t even know what part he’s auditioning for, let alone what musical it is. He’s absolutely petrified with being on stage, still, but if Louis’ his co-star then he’s certain he’s got nothing to worry about.

Harry heads home that day only to find Gemma lounging on the couch in the family room. He immediately sprints over and launches himself into her arms, latching on like a baby monkey and refusing to let go.

“Gemma! I’ve missed you. What’re you doing here?” His words are muffled in her sweatshirt, but she’s accustomed to Harry’s talking-while-cuddling by now so he knows she’ll understand what he said.

“I’ve got a few days off from school and I missed you too, baby brother, so I decided to pay you a visit. See you properly in person rather than just on Skype. Make sure you’re eating your vegetables and all that jazz. Now put in a movie and then tell me all about your life.” Harry gets up to pop Love Actually into the DVD player. Since New Year’s Eve, he and Gemma have had this unspoken agreement that they’ll never watch any movie together that doesn’t have Liam Neeson in it, so it works out pretty perfectly that he’s in one of Harry’s favorite films. He runs to the kitchen to get them some drinks and snacks before settling back in next to her.

He waits until Gemma’s in the middle of sipping her chocolate milk before saying, “I accidentally tried out for the school musical with Louis, and we’ve got callbacks!” and it’s totally worth it because Gemma squeals and chocolate milk starts squirting out of her nose. Harry can’t stop laughing, and Gemma smacks him before wiping her face and demanding to know how that happened and how exactly he _accidentally_ auditioned for something. He quickly fills her in on all the details, leaving out the part where Louis didn’t look too thrilled to receive a callback, because he hasn’t really even dealt with that yet and he’s trying to keep his mind off it. It’s pretty much all he’s thinking about, though, no matter how much he’s trying to convince himself otherwise. It also doesn’t help that Louis hasn’t called or texted him at all, even though he promised he would.

 

* * *

 

Harry walks into the cafeteria the next day with Zayn only to find everyone staring at him. He looks down to make sure he’s not naked and in some embarrassing dream, but he’s got pants on so apparently this is just some embarrassing reality. He sees Nick walking down the cafeteria stairs with the biggest scowl on his face, and Harry’s not even entirely sure what he did but he’s quite glad that he’s somehow managed to piss Nick off. He starts making his way through the crowds, though it’s a bit difficult because people are walking every which way and jumping in front of his path on purpose, he swears. He’s just spotted an open table for him and Zayn to eat at, so he hurriedly starts to shuffle over before slipping on a puddle of spilt milk and dumping his entire plate of chili cheese fries all over Nick’s pink floral shirt. Harry thinks that ruining that shirt is probably a service to all mankind, but he knows Nick won’t see it that way. Nick lets out a blood-curdling scream and Zayn quickly grabs Harry and pushes him back a few steps. Harry’s immediately grateful that he managed to find a friend like Zayn within such a short period of time, a friend who’s willing to help him survive the wrath of pompous twats with dumb hair. Nick’s about to kill him, he’s sure, when Ms. Darbus enters the scene and demands to know what happened.

Nick gets this evil, calculating look on his face before declaring that Harry dumped his chili cheese fries on him on purpose, which is just ridiculous. First of all, Harry definitely wouldn’t waste a perfectly good batch of chili cheese fries, regardless of the fact that wasting them put quite a damper Nick’s day. Nick says it’s because Louis and Harry are trying to ruin the winter musical, because slipping on milk and spilling some food seems like a very smart and creative way of sabotaging a school play, apparently, and then he pulls out some obviously fake tears before storming out of the cafeteria. Nick really defies the odds of nature, because Harry keeps thinking that he can’t possibly hate the twat more, but he keeps proving him wrong day after day.

He and Zayn hastily leave the cafeteria and take their lunches into the library. The librarian is completely smitten with Zayn, thinks the sun shines out his arse or something, so she doesn’t even blink an eye when they pull out their food at a table even though there are signs posted on nearly every wall in the library forbidding them to. Harry takes a bite out of his banana before asking Zayn why Nick seems to hate him so much.

“Dunno, mate. I mean, there’s never been callbacks for the musical before. Nick and his sister always just automatically get the lead roles, so. It could be that. Could be the fact that you’ve caught the eye of one Louis Tomlinson. Nick’s been chasing after him for years. It’s hilarious.”

Harry blushes a bit at the mention of Louis and quickly changes the subject because he doesn’t really need Zayn to acknowledge the gigantic crush he’s harboring for East High’s football superstar. He knows without a doubt that Zayn is well aware of it, but if they don’t talk about it then it doesn’t seem as real. Zayn starts rambling on about this new comic book he bought the other day, and if Harry was a better friend he’s pay very close attention and get into debates over character flaws and all that, but right now he’s just letting out little noises of agreement during appropriate pauses, all the while thinking of Louis and their callbacks. Louis never called him last night, but he did smile at him and greet him in homeroom just like he does every morning, so Harry figures they’re okay. Maybe Louis’ just nervous about callbacks or his big football game coming up.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s just opened his locker later that day when he sees a note fall to the ground. He quickly bends down to pick it up, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl on top.

      _Haz,_

_Meet me on the rooftop. I’ve got a surprise for you :)_

_Love,_

_Louis_

Harry made a point to memorize the map of East High after his first day of school here, so he knows exactly which hallways to take to get to the rooftop. He’s never actually been up there, because as far as he knows it’s off limits except to faculty and the gardening club. He makes his way to the entrance and all but sprints up the stairs, turns around when he reaches the top and sees Louis sprawled out on a bench, basking in the warmth of the sun. He’s got a slight smile on his face and the rays are hitting him just right and he’s just so, so, unbelievably beautiful that it kind of takes Harry’s breath away. He chooses to blame the breathlessness on all the running and stair-climbing, because there’s only so much he can fess up to without admitting that he’s been turned into a giant pile of goo since meeting Louis Tomlinson.

He makes his way over to the bench and lifts Louis’ legs before sitting down and putting Louis’ legs down in his lap. His hands stay locked around Louis’ ankles, though. Louis opens his eyes and smiles up at him, and Harry squeezes his ankles once in greeting.

“It’s so beautiful up here. Bit like a jungle, innit?”

Louis’ soft smile turns into a smirk before he replies, “Ha, yeah. A jungle. Like the cafeteria earlier today, yeah?”

Harry can’t help but blush in embarrassment. He ducks his head down and says, “I humiliated myself in front of the whole school, Louis. Don’t joke.”

Louis nudges him a bit with his converse-clad feet. “‘M not joking. It’s a very serious matter. You’ve moved to Manchester for the sole purpose of ruining Ms. Darbus’ musical, or so I’ve heard from Nick. You’re like a proper criminal mastermind, aren’t you?”

Harry laughs a little at that, grateful that Louis knows just what to say to distract him when he’s dwelling too much. The only problem is if he’s not worrying about the whole Nick fiasco, then he’s worrying about the whole callback fiasco and how Louis didn’t call him last night. Louis’ called him every night since they found out they both went to the same school, so Harry can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. Does Louis not want to do the callbacks, or does he just not want to do the callbacks with Harry?

“So, erm, are you excited for callbacks? You, well, you haven’t really said much since Darbus told us about them, so.”

Louis kicks his feet off Harry’s lap and stands up, looking out over the railing and sighing. “Yeah, H, I’m excited. I love singing with you, yeah? It’s just, my friends. They don’t really, it’s just, it’s really just not their thing.”

“You worried?”

“I mean, I’ve always just been the football star, y’know? Didn’t really have to worry about anything in life because I was _that guy_. The guy who plays football really fucking well. And I don’t know, H, it’s always been really easy. Football has rules and regulations and I follow them, I kick a ball down a field into a net, and that’s it. But like, singing with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the absolute most exciting thing I’ve ever done, by far, but it’s also the hardest. Because I don’t know the rules and regulations. I know that my friends expect me to not like singing beyond bouncing my head to music on the radio. I know that they will go absolutely mad when they find out I’m auditioning for the fucking musical, of all things. I’m not explaining this well at all. I love singing with you, and I want to do the musical with you, but I wish it didn’t come with all this baggage, I guess. I really wish I could be the musical guy _and_ the football guy, or even more than that just a _guy_ , but I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”

“Lou, I understand being stereotyped by your classmates. I mean, I was always the freaky genius kid who excelled in Mathletes and won the Scholastic Decathlon. When I came here I just tried to be Harry, y’know? Because it was a fresh start and I could be whoever I wanted to be. And whenever I sing with you I feel more like myself than I’ve ever been. I will understand if you don’t want to do the callbacks, honestly, but I just, I really think it’ll be so much fun. I would love to sing with you again, Lou.”

Harry’s definitely pouting, and he doesn’t mean to be petulant but he just _really_ wants to sing on stage with Louis again. Louis groans a bit before throwing his arm over his eyes, mumbling something about dimples that Harry can’t quite catch. “Fuck, I never stood a chance. You’re absolutely ridiculous. I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. ‘Til you. But let’s do the callbacks, alright? I’m all in.”

 

* * *

 

They spend the next few days rehearsing whenever they had any available time. Harry feels like he’s on top of the world every time Louis skips free period football practice just to rehearse with Harry. Leah’s very accommodating with their hectic schedules, understanding that Louis has football practice and Harry has study sessions with Zayn, and she meets them whenever possible to accompany them on piano. They also sometimes spend time after school in the auditorium helping Ms. Darbus paint the props. Louis really wasn’t kidding when he said he was all in, and Harry honestly couldn’t be happier. He is still absolutely petrified of singing in front of an audience, but his fears completely fade away whenever Louis’ on stage with him.

They’ve been spending the last few hours after school working on costume designing when Louis excuses himself for football practice. Harry helps for a little bit longer before making his way out onto the pitch, spotting Louis almost immediately. He walks across the field and comes to a stop in front of Louis, and _fuck_ , he looks delectable. Harry’s seen his biceps before, and it’s not like they’re not still very, very, distracting, but Harry’s never seen his _thighs_ before and he just. Can’t. Fucking. Breathe. He’s got socks that go up to his knees and shin guards so his lower legs are covered but he’s wearing shorts so Harry can see his thighs and his brain feels like it’s on overload from all the new Louis information it’s processing.

Louis clears his throat before saying, a bit arrogantly, “See something you like, Harold?” and Harry snaps back to reality and hopes to god he hasn’t been drooling. He doesn’t blush as much as usual, and he’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that he’s getting used to Louis’ teasing. He’s fairly certain it’s a bad thing, because that just means Louis will try harder to embarrass him.

“So, is this your real stage, Lou?

“Ha, yeah, I guess you could call it that. Or just a grassy field, but.” Harry smiles before gesturing for Louis to kick him the ball. Louis complies and Harry lines up his shot and shoots the ball towards the goal. Of course, he is by far the worst football player of all time, so it goes wide and misses the post by meters.

“Wow. You’re particularly awful at this, H. I am impressed. I am actually impressed at your complete failure to kick a ball.” Harry very maturely sticks his tongue out at Louis before he tackles him to the ground, and somehow in their fall Louis ends up on top of Harry, straddling his waist. Harry’s heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest, because Louis’ so so close that Harry can smell him and he’s brought back to the first night they met, when Louis caught Harry smelling his cologne. Although now he smells considerably less like cologne and more like _Louis_ , like sweat and grass and a hundred other things that Harry can’t even pick out.

Louis smirks at Harry before grinding his hips down just once before whispering in his ear, “Are you smelling me, love?” because he’s a sentimental bastard whose sole purpose is to make Harry’s life a living hell.

Harry just stares up at Louis, breathless, and he’s about to reply to him or smile at him or kiss him, something, when he hears a stern voice say above him, “This is a closed practice facility.”

Louis jumps off Harry like he’s on fire before looking over at, oh god, his father, and this is most definitely not the best way to meet your soul mate’s father. Louis just runs his fingers through his hair and introduces Coach Tomlinson to Harry, but Coach does not seem pleased in the slightest, so Harry rushes past the both of them and books it home.

Louis calls him later that night and apologizes profusely, and Harry tries to laugh it off but they both know he’s completely mortified. Louis talks about the upcoming football championships and how they’ll definitely win if the other team has Harry’s skill set, which causes Harry to let out an indignant squawk of protest. He tells Louis that he’d really like him to meet Gemma, and that she’ll probably put on some absolutely ridiculous theatrics that are meant to be disguised as The Talk, and Louis just laughs at that and tells Harry he’d absolutely love to meet his sister. Callbacks are on Saturday, Louis’ game is on Friday, and Harry really can’t wait for either. Louis’ already given him his spare practise jersey to wear to the game which makes Harry feel like a proper boyfriend. They haven’t really discussed what they are, hell, they haven’t even _kissed_ , but Harry feels like they’re on the precipice of something wonderful so he falls asleep that night with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

Harry walks to school the next day with a bounce in his step. He knows Louis’ got morning football practice and he really wants to surprise him, so he’s got some homemade muffins and Louis’ favorite tea from the coffeehouse down the street. He’s walking behind the bleachers when he hears Louis talking to Niall and his other teammates. He peeks around the corner and sees them all in their practice gear, taking drinks of water by the bench. He scoots a bit closer to get a better look and, well, they all look a bit upset, especially Louis. He’s about to go over to see what’s wrong when Louis’ voice stops him.

“If you don’t think I’m going to pour everything I've got into this game, then you don’t know me. Seriously, it’s the championship game, I know how important it is. I’ve been practicing with you guys twice a day!”

“Yeah, okay Louis. But we’ve been having practice three times a day, and you’re our team captain. Maybe it’s time you started acting like it. We just thought-”

Louis interrupts Niall, and his voice is thunderous. “Yeah? Well here’s what I thought. I thought we were teammates. I thought you guys were supposed to have my back, win or lose, through thick and thin.”

Niall fires right back. “What about Harry? And the callbacks? You’ve been missing practice for that, don’t deny it.”

“Ni, I’m completely dedicated to the team! I've always been completely dedicated to the team. That's why you guys voted me captain sophomore year, yeah? And Harry's, like, he's just someone I met on holiday, alright? I've just been doing the whole singing thing to, I don't know, keep my mind off the championship game. It means nothing to me. Harry means nothing to me. He's not important, okay? You're my boys, like always. I'll forget about Harry and I'll forget about callbacks, and we'll go kick some West High arse and win the state championships! Everyone happy now?

They all burst into cheers and have a big group hug and Louis’ hoisted up in the center of the group, smile wide and bright and happy, and Harry can’t breathe. He can’t breathe or move or do anything but sit there behind the bleachers and feel the tears stream steadily down his face. He can’t believe he was so stupid, can’t believe he let himself hope that he was important when he was apparently nothing but a distraction. Louis was looking for a distraction that night at the lodge and he found it in a stupid, clumsy, naive boy who didn’t know better than to trust a stranger with his heart. Fuck, Harry thought Louis was his _soul mate_. He just, he can’t believe he was so stupid.

He hears the team start to come towards his hiding spot so he immediately turns around and heads towards his locker. He starts to gather up the books he needs for the weekend and then he’s going to go home and he’s probably going to cry for a few hours or a few days or a few months, but he’s not going to cry here. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do after that, though. Louis’ everywhere, in every ridiculously large poster in every hallway of the school, in every single nook and cranny of Harry’s life, and Harry doesn’t even know how to begin removing him from it.

He’s reaching down to get his last textbook when he hears Louis coming down the hallway. Because of course Louis can’t just walk down the hallway like a normal person, he’s got to be high-fived and congratulated and hugged all because he plays a stupid fucking sport. He hears Louis whistling to the tune of their callback song, and Harry really wants to punch him in his stupid, pretty, lying face.

“Haz! What’s up?”

Harry refuses to respond.

“Listen, there’s something I want to talk to you about. You got a minute?”

Harry is honestly a second away from having a nervous breakdown, so he stops Louis from saying whatever lies he was about to spout next. He grabs the sheet music from his locker, crumples it up, and throws it at Louis’ feet. “No, I don’t have a minute. And you should know I don’t want to do the callbacks anymore, so you’re off the hook. Good luck with football, Louis.” He doesn’t even spare Louis a glance before turning around and leaving school, desperate to be in the comfort of his own bed before he completely loses it.

He immediately runs upstairs once he gets home and manages to send a text off to Gemma before bursting into tears. He cries himself to sleep, because it’s not as if he can get anymore pathetic, and is only woken up when he feels the bed dip next to him. He slowly sticks his head out from under his comforter and sees his sister sitting there with a frown on her face. He scrambles to get out from under the covers, and once he’s free he holds his hands out for a hug and she quickly complies, tossing the comforter over both of them and letting Harry cuddle up close to her.

“What happened, Harry?”

He tells her all about the conversation he overheard on the football field, about how he stupidly thought he was something more to Louis when he was obviously just a joke, something to pass the time until his precious championship game. Gemma just listens and holds him closer whenever he has to stop his story to cry, and once he’s done she starts talking, comes up with various scenarios in which they can kill Louis Tomlinson, starting with hiring a hitman and ending with slicing his entire body in half with a lightsaber.

It’s probably not the healthiest way to try to get over someone, but it helps a bit, knowing that his sister will be on his side through thick and thin, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

Harry spends the next few days ignoring Louis’ numerous calls and texts, ducking into classrooms whenever he sees him coming and eating lunch in the library with Zayn. He knows Louis’ just got a guilty conscience but that’s not Harry’s problem. Right now Harry’s problem is trying to remember how to breathe when he feels like he’s been completely ripped apart inside.

Louis comes to his house a few days later, but Harry has given his mum very explicit instructions to not let him in. Harry hears him talking to his mum, saying that he made a mistake and would very much like to apologize. Well, Harry would very much like to punch Louis in his stupidly cute nose, but people don’t always get what they want. His mum shuts the door and he breathes a sigh of relief before heading back up to his room. He sits back down on his bed to do some homework when his phone starts ringing with Louis’ ringtone. He’d set it to “You’re the One That I Want” a few weeks ago after Louis had confessed that Grease was his favorite movie, and he just hasn’t had the heart to change it or delete his number.

Harry sighs and goes to pick up the phone, if only to tell Louis to stop calling him, but he never even gets the chance to speak. “Harry, don’t hang up the phone. I’ve been driving myself crazy the past few days wondering what went wrong, and why you started ignoring me, and I just. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. You were, erm, you were at the pitch that day, weren’t you? When I was talking to my teammates.”

Harry doesn’t answer. “Right. So that must be it. Listen, Harry, I’m so sorry. I can never apologize enough. I didn’t mean a word of what I said, honest. I just, I was sick of my friends constantly riding me about the whole callback thing, and I just said some stupid things to get them off my back. I didn’t mean them! I just knew it’d shut them up. And, like, I just want you to know that that’s not the real me. I’m through pretending to be someone I’m not. I told the boys after practice today that I was going to do the callbacks, and it took some convincing but they’re supporting me, so. Harry, you’re the only one who knows the real me, and I’ve been an absolute prick these past few weeks trying to juggle between being football star Louis and being musical callback Louis, when really I should have just been trying to be _Louis_. Just Louis. Please do the callbacks with me, H. But even if you don’t, ehm, just know that you’re not a distraction, and you don’t mean nothing to me. Fuck, Haz, you mean _everything_ to me.”

Harry’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do, because Gemma would say he’s supposed to ask Louis to climb up his balcony just so that he could throw him back over it head-first, but his heart is saying he should forgive Louis and that they should try to work things out with minimal violence. And, well, Harry’s never really been good at ignoring what his heart’s telling him, so he clears his throat before finally replying, “Okay. I’ll do the callbacks. I’ll, ehm, I’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah? We can practice during free period like usual.” and that’s that. For the first time in a week, Harry doesn’t cry himself to sleep. It’s not exactly all rainbows and butterflies, but it’s progress.

 

* * *

 

Harry is practicing with the Scholastic Decathlon team the next day after school. Because yes, he’s now a member of it. During a particularly mopey Mopey About Louis day, Zayn had asked Harry to join the team and Harry was helpless to say no. Harry’s pretty sure it’s not nice or friend-like to use emotional manipulation on a sad teenager just so your team can beat West High for the first time ever, but he’s not going to bring that up to Zayn until he really needs some leverage.

After practice he runs to meet Louis in the music room to rehearse with Leah. It’s a bit awkward at first, to be honest, because Harry might have forgiven Louis but that doesn’t really erase the fact that he’d spent the last week being miserable and depressed because of him. Once they start singing, though, everything else just fades away like usual. It’s just him and Louis, and it’s New Year’s Eve all over again, and he’s still just as in love as ever.

Leah tells them after they’re through rehearsing that Ms. Darbus moved the callbacks to Friday afternoon instead of Saturday, and Harry is absolutely positive that Nick had something to do with it, with his dumb hair and his dumb schemes. He’s really tempted to stab Nick in the eye with a lot of pencils, like maybe five pencils in each eye. He’s tempted to do a lot of violent things, but Louis interrupts all his masterminding by declaring, “No. That twat Nicholas is most definitely not ruining this for us, not after everything!”

“Wait, you think Nick is a twat, too?”

“Haz, honestly, is this really the time?”

“I think it’s always a perfectly good time to discuss the douchebaggery of Nick Grimshaw, yes.”

Louis laughs and then hugs Harry around the waist, not dropping his arm even after pulling away. “I’ve got an idea. We just need to stall the my game! ‘Cause, I mean, my game is at six, and your Decathlon ends at six. Callbacks are at six. So, we need to stall the football game so that I can make it to the auditorium before it starts, and you can make it to the auditorium right after you win the Decathlon.”

“Heyyyyyyy, you don’t know if we’ll win or not! Don’t jinx us.”

“You’ve got Curly hair though, and so you’ve got lots of space for extra brains. You’ll definitely win.”

He tries to tell Louis that he’s not entirely sure that’s how it works, but Louis’ already going over every detail of the plan with the football and Scholastic Decathlon team, who have come together in the name of destroying Nick Grimshaw’s chance at starring in a school musical for the 18th time in a row.

 

* * *

 

They absolutely smash it. East High wins the Decathlon and Harry makes it to the auditorium for the callbacks just in time. Zayn and Niall orchestrated something to make the scoreboard malfunction so the referees had no choice but to stop the football game temporarily, giving Louis the opportunity to run to the auditorium to join Harry. Harry steps on stage and looks out at the audience and he feels a bit like he’s going to puke, but then he looks over and sees Louis, smiling brightly at him, bringing him back down to earth. They sing the song perfectly, and the audience goes wild, and Harry can’t stop smiling. Ms. Darbus throws her clipboard to the ground in the middle of the song and starts dancing around with everyone else. Harry’s never felt so alive in his entire life. He feels invincible, feels like he’s soaring and flying and, _fuck_ , like there’s just not a single star in the sky that he couldn’t reach if he tried.

Needless to say, they get the parts as the leads in the musical. Afterwards, Harry dons his #17 jersey and watches his boy win the state championships, screaming and shouting the entire time with Zayn who is surprisingly vocal about football. Louis shoots the winning goal with a second to spare, and Harry sprints down the bleachers to the field and leaps straight into Louis’ arms. He squeezes his legs around him and yells congratulations and then just sticks his whole face into Louis’ neck, relishing in the feeling of being engulfed by his boy. He inhales deeply, feels the entire world fade away in Louis’ arms.

“Are you smelling me, love?” and Harry smiles wider at that, lets his feet fall back to the ground, lifts his head off Louis’ shoulders and smacks a big kiss to his cheek.

“I really, really love you, y’know. Like, a lot. Big love.”

Louis smiles and shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe everything that’s happened. “I really, really, love you too, Haz.” and then he reaches up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry once gently on the nose, “Like, a lot.” He pulls back for a moment to brush the hair out of Harry’s eyes before he leans back in, whispers, “Big love,” and closes his mouth over Harry’s.

 

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

**A few months later**

Harry and Louis are curled up on the couch watching a film when Gemma comes bursting into the room decked out in some Hogwarts robes with a Slytherin scarf wrapped securely around her neck. Harry has been dreading this day for months.

“So, _Louis_ , if that even is your name.” Louis stifles a laugh behind his hands because Harry told him weeks ago that Gemma would one day give him a stern older sister talk, and that it would probably involve a ridiculous costume and unnecessary theatrics, and that Louis was to endure it and not say a single word until she was done.

“Listen up, you little turd- wait, shit, I forgot to get my wand out.” She digs through her robes and pulls out a wand, levels it right at Louis, and then continues.

“I understand that you’ve got _feelings_ for my brother. I’m here to tell you that you better treat him right, no you better treat him _better_ than right. You better worship the ground he walks on and feed him chocolate covered strawberries and give him back massages because he’s got terrible posture and you just really need to take care of him, okay? If you don’t, you’ve got me to answer to. If I find out you’ve hurt my brother in any way, I will hunt you down. Also I get one free punch to the balls for that stunt you pulled a few months ago where you called my brother _unimportant_. Remember that? Because I have a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career.”

Louis leans over to whisper to Harry, “Is she reciting Liam Neeson’s entire speech from Taken?” and Harry nods and hopes that having a crazy sister isn’t, like, a deal breaker.

Gemma sees them whispering and waves her wand threateningly in their direction. “I will Avada Kedavra you if you don’t pay attention, Lewis. As I was saying, these skills make me a nightmare for people like you. If you apologize to my brother for being a proper dick a few months ago, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Louis and Harry sit in silence for a few moments and Harry’s pretty sure Louis is just thinking of excuses to get as far away from Harry’s house as he possibly can. Instead, Louis stands up from the couch, puts on his best Armenian accent, and says, “Good luck.”

Harry can tell that Gemma is immensely pleased that Louis knew the proper response to Liam Neeson’s quote, but she tries to hide it under a scowl. She glares at Louis for a few moments before she turns around and dramatically flips her robe in the air, heading back out the front door.

Louis just plops back down next to Harry on the couch, slings an arm over his shoulders and plants a kiss to the side of his head, before pressing play on the remote to resume their movie.

“Your sister’s fucking weird, H.”

 


End file.
